


The Android Left Behind

by mcschnuggles



Series: Little Deviant Hunter [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Caregiver!Hank, Gen, Non-Sexual Age Play, Regressing!Connor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-10 08:40:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15945755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcschnuggles/pseuds/mcschnuggles
Summary: When Connor tries to apprehend the deviant on the roof, for the first time, he feels fear. He doesn't cope well.





	The Android Left Behind

Connor stumbles away from the fallen android. The world is shifting and fading, as if there’s something wrong with his eyes, but he knows that can’t be the case. He barely hears the words being shouted over his shoulder.

“Fucking hell!” Hank cries. “Will you ever learn to listen?”

“The android.” Connor chokes out. “I was scanning its memories. I felt it die.” Despite there being nothing wrong with his legs, he collapses. Death was never something he was afraid of. He only saw it as an inconvenience, but now… Fear, pain, and nothingness, a lifetime of negative emotions wrapped into two terrible seconds.

He must look a mess, because Hank visibly starts. “Connor, are you okay?”

“I felt it die.” The LED on his temple begins to burn bright red. He can hear the circuits in his head spark and stutter, trying to process a complex thought that had never once occurred to him in his life. Liquid drips down his cheeks, one he doesn’t recognize. “I don’t want to die.” He feels the sparking and stuttering move to his chest, where they constrict his synthetic lungs. He doesn’t need to breathe, but having the feeling taken away from him is suddenly scary, so he does the only thing his software is allowing him to do.

He cries.

In an instant, someone is grabbing his arm and whirling him away from the crime scene. Connor keeps his eyes on Lieutenant Anderson’s shoes as the tears through the crowd of crime scene investigators.

“Alright, move aside!” Hank snaps at someone that tries to stop them. “Our job is done, the crime scene has been investigated! Tell us when you’ve got something fucking useful for us!”

The next thing Connor knows, he’s being gently pushed into a car and having a seat belt pulled over his lap. He looks up to make eye contact with Hank.

“L-Lieutenant Anderson,” he says, in some vague attempt to maintain his composure. Like he isn’t crying rivers and choking on sob after sob.

Hank simply shakes his head as he climbs into the driver’s seat. “Wipe your face,” he says, passing over a packet of tissues.

Connor does as suggested, but quickly finds it’s inefficient. For whatever reason, his tear ducts won’t close, so he has to wipe away tears constantly. He needs something to distract himself. “Lieutenant Anderson, why do you have the air conditioning on?” He wishes he could sound methodical and practical, anything other than the shaky, whimpery voice he’s speaking with now. “My sensors indicate that it is currently 28 degrees Farenheit outside.”

“Yeah, but…” Hank gestures vaguely to the LED on Connor’s temple. “Doesn’t the cool air help?”

“I am not overheating, Lieutenant. I am simply experiencing slight software instability, processor issues, and a slight glitch with my empathy coding.”

“Because you felt that android…die.” Hank stumbles on the word, like he too is having trouble processing such a sudden and tragic death.

The word strikes something in Connor, something that reactivates his tear ducts tenfold. Suddenly it feels too real all over again. He can see the memory flashing behind his eyelids, even though he’s been trying unsuccessfully for the last fifteen minutes to store the memory or simply delete it altogether. “I don’t understand,” he sobs, staring at his own hands like they might give him the answer.

“Connor, the guy died right in front of you. Shit like that gets to you.” Before Connor can respond, he pulls the car to a stop. “Come on, then.”

Connor sets aside the tissues and exits the car. “Lieutenant Anderson, you shouldn’t be waiting in the cold. It is-”

“28 degrees. I heard you the first time.” Hank remains standing where he is until Connor gets close enough for him to loop an arm around Connor’s shoulders and lead him inside. “Go to the couch, okay?”

Connor nods distantly.

“Sumo!” Hank calls, and the massive dog pads around the corner and promptly hops onto the couch and into Connor’s lap.

Connor laughs as the dog laps at his face. The weight of the dog against his lap and chest is not unpleasant, almost soothing. He feels his internal processor calm the tiniest bit as he rubs a hand through Sumo’s shaggy fur.

“You like watching TV?” Hank asks, remote in hand.

“Sir, I do not need-”

“Don’t bullshit me, Connor. I’m not the one having a panic attack. What do you want?”

A panic attack. Connor has knowledge of those, but only slightly so. Some of it pertains to suspects, the rest to victims of trauma. And he’s neither of those things, so why would he be having a panic attack? He blinks up at Hank, confused, scared, and hopelessly lost.

With a sigh, Hank resigns himself to having to open up about himself and sits beside Connor on the couch. “My son used to get real bad panic attacks. Not like that shit you see on TV, but he’d just go real still and real quiet. If it was real bad, he might cry, but he’d usually hole himself up somewhere.” Hank wraps his arm around Connor’s shoulder again. “I used to get ‘em too. So I understand.”

Connor feels his LED fade from brilliant red to yellow. “I think I want…” He says the words slowly, parsing them out as they come. Even as he says the words, he doesn’t know what he really wants until it comes tumbling from his mouth. “…to be hugged.” He pauses, surprised, but then realizes. Sumo’s weight, Hank’s arm around him, they’re all physical reminders of where he is. He is not dead, and he is not endangered. And he needs more of those reminders.

Hank smirks. “Come here, then.” He pulls Connor into his arms. “Atta boy, you’re safe.”

Safe. It sounds so nice. Connor sinks into the embrace. The buzz of his processor still fills the silence as he desperately scans through the memories of both himself and the models before him. With his line of work, safety is near nonexistent. All he wants is a way to have that feeling.

He thinks to when he feels his safest. While slightly ironic, it would have to be when investigating crime scenes. There, he knows exactly what to do and what to look for. Even if he’s in danger of stumbling across another deviant, it never feels that way in the moment. There, all he’s focused on is the evidence.

Perhaps that’s it. Perhaps he needs the weight of something on his tongue. Connor hooks his index and middle finger into his mouth, shocked at the amount of pure relief that courses through him. Little by little, it starts to come to him. The feelings of warmth and safety.

He glances up to see Hank eyeing him strangely and panics. His LED, which he hadn’t realized had faded back to blue, now flares yellow. Hank did always hate when he put his fingers in his mouth. 

“You’re fine.” Hank says before he can speak. “You deal with it how you deal with it. Besides, not only am I a cop, I also went to college. I’ve seen much weirder shit.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant…” Connor grimaces. The title feels wrong on his lips. “Hank,” he tries, but that still feels wrong. He’s acutely aware of a new social bond being formed between him and Hank, one that may be slightly taboo and will definitely have to be kept separate from their work. “Dad?” Somehow, that feels right.

Hank fondly rolls his eyes. “You’re lucky you had a hard day, kid.” He doesn’t mean the words he’s saying, as proven by the way he pulls Connor into a tighter hug.

“Was my work in the field acceptable?”

Hank pauses, then chuckles when he realizes what’s being asked of him. “Yes, Connor. You did a good job today. I’m proud of you.”

**Author's Note:**

> mcschnuggles.tumblr.com


End file.
